Nothing To Prove
by JessieJay13
Summary: Companion piece for To The Death. Written from Arthur's POV instead of Merlin's as he tries to persuade Merlin to withdraw from the duel, and come to terms with the possibility of losing his best friend.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey everybody! This is a companion piece to **_**To The Death**_**, written upon a request from my reader Synk to see some of the story from Arthur's POV. It's been really fun writing this, switching it around to see it through Arthur's eyes, so thanks so much for suggesting it! Having no experience with sword fighting myself, I feel like I exhausted most of my knowledge in Merlin's duel in **_**TTD**_**, so I did not feel the need to reiterate the entire thing with Arthur watching. The end of the story was pretty self-evident, I think, and I feel that most of Arthur's part is earlier on, so I only wrote this up to Arthur's acquiescence. Hope you all enjoy it, and if you haven't read **_**TTD**_**, please do! :D**

Arthur stared in shock at the gauntlet on the ground. It wasn't for him, nor for any of the other knights, and his brain was taking a moment to catch up to what that meant. Merlin was staring at it too, looking almost as shocked as Arthur felt. Arthur's mouth finally caught up to his brain, voicing his reaction the only way he could.

"_What_?" he cried. There were similar responses from the knights gathering behind him, all watching this bizarre confrontation. "What is the meaning of this?" The foreign knight didn't even deign to glance in his direction. Merlin's eyes narrowed suspiciously at his challenger.

"Why do you challenge me, Sir Carson?" he asked, sounding legitimately confused. Arthur was confused too. Who in their right mind would want to challenge _Mer_lin? It wasn't as if he was a knight or a warrior. He didn't have enemies, not like Arthur did. He didn't fight in many battles, he didn't have blood on his hands that would earn him a challenge such as this. There was no reason for this stranger from another kingdom to even _know_ Merlin, much less issue him a challenge. But the knight simply gestured indifferently, giving a little shrug.

"My reasons are my own," he claimed. "Do you accept my challenge?" Immediately Arthur started forward to take up the gauntlet; there was no _way_ he was going to let Merlin fight this man, no matter what quarrel the knight may have had with his servant. But before Arthur got two paces, Merlin had snatched the gauntlet off the ground and faced Sir Carson again, his face set. Arthur gaped at him.

"I accept your challenge, Sir Carson," he said decisively. Arthur couldn't help the noise of outrage and borderline panic that escaped his throat. Luckily the other knights had all made sounds of horror as well. "What are your terms?" The knight smirked in a way that made Arthur want to slap the smug little expression off his rat-like face.

"Single combat. Noon tomorrow. To the death." Arthur's lungs seemed to have stopped working. He saw Merlin nod but he didn't really comprehend it. That couldn't possibly mean what he thought it meant. His mind revolted against what his eyes and ears were telling it. Merlin could not possibly have just accepted a duel to the death with a knight he knew nothing about. Even _Mer_lin couldn't be that stupid. But Sir Carson was walking away now and Merlin was watching him go, a calm look of contemplation on his face. It was that calmness that pushed Arthur over the edge. He strode forward and wrenched his servant around to face him.

"What the _hell_ are you _thinking_, Merlin?!" he shouted, anger and fear combining to make his question come out much louder and more forcefully than he had originally intended.

"The man obviously has a quarrel with me," Merlin said, taking a step back to be out of range of Arthur's ferocity. "I see no reason not to meet him head on." Arthur's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. _No reason not to?_

"You're not even a swordsman, Merlin! What on earth possessed you to take up his challenge?" _The challenge that's going to get you killed!_ he thought a little frantically.

"The Knights' code—"

"_You're not a knight, Merlin_!" Arthur threw his hands up in frustration. "The Knights' Code doesn't apply to you, you were under no obligation to pick up his gauntlet. Nor are you required to go through with it. You have to withdraw, Merlin." Arthur was surprised by the intensity of the glare Merlin sent his way.

"Knights are not the only people with honor, Arthur," he said, his voice cold. "I will not renege on a duel such as this." Then Merlin had turned his back on him and was walking away, back toward the castle. Arthur watched him stride away in shock, his mouth still hanging open. He looked back at his knights, all of whom were looking at Merlin's retreating back in a similar manner, still too stunned by this sudden turn of events to do anything about it. Gwaine was the quickest to snap out of it.

"He can't be serious about this," he scoffed, though there was clear worry underneath his practiced scorn; Arthur knew Merlin to be Gwaine's first and closest friend and the knight's concern was evident in the tension of his shoulders and jaw despite his relaxed stance. "He can't be."

"He looked pretty serious to me," Elyan said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously.

"Why would a North Umbrian knight seek out Merlin for a duel?" Leon muttered, more to himself than to the other knights, staring off in the direction Sir Carson had come. Arthur wasn't listening to him, though, still stuck on Merlin's abrupt anger.

"What was that last bit about?" he asked, bewildered.

"I think you insulted him, Arthur," Percival said. Arthur whirled around to look at him questioningly. Insulted him? How did he insult Merlin? Percival looked like he wanted to roll his eyes but, being infinitely more respectful than the servant in question, he simply moved to explain. "You implied that since he isn't a knight, he was under no obligation to stay true to his word. Merlin, while obviously not a knight, is still an honorable man. He will no more go back on his word than any of us will, knight or no, and it obviously offended him that you would expect him to do so."

Arthur scowled off toward the castle, fists clenching and unclenching with anxious energy. When Percival said it like that, he guessed it made sense enough. Arthur never really thought about Merlin in such terms. He was always just _Merlin_, a unique entity in and of himself. He had never met anyone like Merlin and therefore had a hard time thinking of him in general terms. Merlin defied every stereotype Arthur had ever tried to place upon him, so this sudden adherence to tradition was just as unexpected as every surprising thing he had ever done. Trust Merlin to be unpredictable simply by doing what anyone else would have done.

"I'm not going to let Merlin's newfound sense of _honor_ get him killed," Arthur growled. Leaving the knights shifting awkwardly behind him, Arthur marched into the castle, heading immediately for the physician's quarters. He found Merlin being berated by Gaius, who looked very worried and more than a little angry.

"How many times have I told you to _be careful_, Merlin?" Gaius was saying, his voice harsh. Merlin stood before him, arms crossed and face set in defiance. "This is quite possibly the most idiotically dangerous thing you have ever done, and that's saying something!"

"I quite agree," Arthur said, coming forward to stand beside Gaius, who jumped rather violently and looked at him strangely before turning quickly back to his ward, his anger now overlaid with a look of triumph, as though he was certain Merlin would give up now that he had Arthur on his side. On the contrary, Merlin simply transferred his glare from his guardian to his master, looking no less stubborn. "This is ludicrous, Merlin. Withdraw from the duel."

"How is it ludicrous to accept a challenge when it is issued?" Merlin asked.

"It is ludicrous for _you_ to accept a challenge when you do not have the skill to complete it," Arthur rephrased, speaking slowly and clearly. Merlin's scowl deepened.

"It's good to know you have so much faith in me, Arthur," he drawled. His tone practically dripped with sarcasm, but it wasn't the usual teasing kind, but much more cutting.

"Oh, don't be like that, Merlin, you know it's true," Arthur sneered. "You can barely hold a sword by the right end, how do you expect to win in mortal combat? Just withdraw from the duel."

"How many times have I begged you to withdraw from a dangerous fight?" Merlin shot back accusingly. "How many times have you ignored me and fought anyway because it would cowardly and dishonorable to back out?"

"And I survived every time because I'm a champion swordsman, Merlin," Arthur pointed out. "You were being a worrywart. I'm being practical." Merlin threw a fuming look at Gaius for some reason, looking like he was about to start pulling out his hair. Gaius did not respond and Merlin took a deep breath before turning back to face Arthur.

"You're not going to talk me out of this, Arthur," he said resolutely. "Don't bother trying."

"You're going to get yourself killed," Arthur responded, managing to come across much more relaxed about that fact than he really was.

"Then that's my prerogative." The tone of finality was unmistakable. Arthur threw up his hands in frustration and turned to storm out of the room. Before he slammed the door behind him he heard the unmistakable sounds of Gaius gearing up for another lecture. He hoped the physician would have more luck than he had.

Feeling edgy and restless, Arthur returned to the training field. He needed something to focus on, something that _wasn't_ the impending death of his servant-turned-best-friend. The moment the duel entered his mind, he couldn't stop himself flashing back to all the times Merlin had been injured or dying or presumed dead or missing and he felt a near irresistible urge to hit something. So he snatched a sword from the rack and began slicing away at a training dummy. He wasn't controlling his strokes, he was not fighting to his usual standards, he wasn't even really aiming. He just threw all his strength behind his blows, hacking fiercely until sweat began dripping down to sting his eyes. Pulling back to catch his breath, Arthur caught sight of Leon and Elyan exiting the castle looking upset. He wiped his brow on his sleeve and waited for them to approach him.

"Merlin wouldn't listen to us either," Elyan told him.

"He says he will honor the Knights' Code as any of us would," Leon said. While obviously troubled by the danger his friend was in, the older knight had attained a grudging sort of respect for the young man who clung so ferociously to his integrity. "He would not be dissuaded." Arthur jabbed his sword into the ground with a curse.

"That idiot," he swore. "He's going to die because he wants to play knight." Leon frowned at him reproachfully but didn't say anything.

"Maybe you should talk to him again," Elyan suggested. "You may be able to get through to him where we couldn't." Arthur shook his head.

"Like Merlin ever does what I tell him to," he scoffed.

"Still, it's worth a try," Elyan insisted, Leon nodding alongside him. Arthur looked between them, seeing their worry, and knew he would have to try again. No matter how angry Merlin would get. He thrust his sword into Leon's hand and stalked off for the castle again. When he reached the physician's chambers he found the door closed but he could hear voices inside. It wasn't Gaius so Arthur crept closer to the door, curiosity getting the better of him. It sounded like Gwaine was trying his hand at persuading Merlin to back out. He didn't seem to be doing very well. Grimacing at his own shameful conduct, Arthur leaned his ear against the door to eavesdrop.

"—have no business in a duel like this."

"I have as much right to answer a direct challenge as the next man, Gwaine."

"Your rights don't have anything to do with it, Merlin. This is dangerous business; you're going to get yourself hurt. Leave the duels to the knights." There was the unmistakable sound of hands being slammed down onto a table and Arthur jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden noise.

"I am _sick _and_ tired_ of being treated like a child who got his grubby hands on daddy's sword!" Merlin shouted. Arthur stared at the door in shock for a second. He and Merlin had had their fair share of fights over the years, but never before had Arthur heard Merlin shout like that. Merlin may show little to no deference to his title, but Arthur guessed Merlin's respect for his position went just far enough to prevent him from raising his voice to his king. He seemed to have no such compunctions with Gwaine. "I don't need you to _save_ me, Gwaine. Not you, not Arthur, not any of you. I can damn well take care of myself and I _will_ go through with this duel."

"I will not stand by and let you get yourself killed!" Gwaine roared back.

"Get out of my face."

This was said to quietly and with such a deadly calm that it sent a shiver down Arthur's spine. Merlin sounded dangerous now. Arthur was suddenly very glad that he had never given Merlin reason to speak to him in such a manner, and he pitied Gwaine for being on the receiving end of the normally amiable man's apparently considerable fury. Arthur held his breath, waiting for the sound of a punch being thrown, but there was silence within the room. After a very tense moment, he heard footsteps and had barely a second to fling himself out of the way before the door was wrenched open hard enough to slam against the wall and Gwaine stormed past him without so much as seeing him, looking far angrier than Arthur had ever seen. He was sure that if he looked into the physician's chambers, he would see Merlin looking similarly livid. He found he had no desire to see such an incongruous expression on his servant's normally cheerful face, so he turned tail and hurried off toward his room before the furious Merlin could catch him snooping outside the door.

Upon reaching his chambers, he immediately found himself with an armful of Guinevere. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her wet face in his shoulder, her shoulders shaking with tears. Obviously she had heard about the duel. Arthur felt a little ashamed that he hadn't thought to comfort his wife. He had forgotten that Merlin was her best friend as well as Gwaine's, and even his own; of course she would be devastated at the thought of Merlin being killed in such a way. So he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair, nuzzling his nose into her hair, taking as much comfort as he gave.

"I went to talk to him, Arthur," Gwen choked out eventually, not pulling back but speaking into his chest so that it was a little muffled. "He apologized, but he wouldn't pull out. He said he had as much of a duty to uphold the Knights' Code as anyone else did, whether he is a knight or not."

"I'll talk to him again, Gwen, I promise," he said, kissing her head. "I'll convince him to withdraw. I will. He has to see sense about this. Merlin may be a brave idiot, but he's not stupid enough to risk his life over something like this, surely." He was trying to convince himself just as much as his distraught wife. It wasn't really working for either of them. Merlin's stubbornness and bravery were second to none, not even his own, he knew that. But he had to try. Merlin's life depended on it. Gwen pulled out of his embrace, wiping at her face embarrassedly.

"I've been sitting here crying like a loon for an hour," she muttered, sounding a little angry with herself. Abruptly, she began hurrying around the room, straightening and tidying and organizing. Arthur watched her sympathetically; she needed to distract herself as much as he had earlier, only she did so by falling back on old habits, manual labor and cleaning and washing. Anything to keep her hands busy and her mind blank. He let her fuss for a minute before pulling her back into his arms for a second. He kissed her gently.

"I'll put a stop to this," he told her quietly. She nodded up at him, her dark eyes still full of tears. He kissed her on the forehead and then released her. He had to try again.

His next attempt was just as unproductive as his first one. Merlin was much touchier than he had been, more defensive, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to push him. He still had Merlin's shouting ringing in the back of his mind and he was rather wary of bringing about that sort of fit of temper. A few minutes of ineffective bickering and Merlin essentially dismissed him. Feeling more than a little spurned, Arthur left. He went to the training field again and nearly destroyed the training dummy in his anger and his futility. He was angry at Merlin for being so damn stubborn, he was angry at Sir Carson for starting this whole thing, and he was angry at himself for not being able to stop this. Arthur had never done well with feeling helpless, and that was exactly how he felt now. He couldn't put a stop to the duel, not when it was perfectly legitimate. Nor could he be seen to be favoring a servant over a knight; propriety may not have been top of Arthur's list, but it wasn't something he could throw out the window completely. And he couldn't convince Merlin to change his mind. There was nothing he could do and that was killing him. So he rained down blow after blow on the poor defenseless dummy until pieces began falling off and the knights on the other side of the field were eyeing him worriedly.

So he tried again. And Merlin barely spoke to him at all this time. He answered with clipped responses, irritation clear in his every word. Arthur pushed harder this time, insulting him and hoping to get a response of some sort, but Merlin didn't rise to the bait as he had with Gwaine. He kept a tight hold of himself and told Arthur to leave after barely a minute. At a loss as to what else he could do, Arthur left. He wandered around for a while, feeling that destroying two training dummies was a bit much for one day, but not willing to go back to his room and face his distressed wife either. He caught snatches of feverish conversations on all sides and nearly every one of them was about Merlin and his remarkable duel. From what he heard, no one expected Merlin to win. The fatalism made Arthur's chest clench painfully; they were talking about him as if he were already dead. That thought spurred him back to the castle again. He would try again. One more time. Merlin had to see sense. He _had _to. Arthur ran into Percival outside Gaius' chambers and the large knight nodded to him.

"Been in to see Merlin? How is he?" he asked tentatively, gesturing to the door behind him. "Is he still angry?" Percival shook his head.

"Not really," he said. "He's more frustrated than anything else. He was furious this morning, I hear; seems he had a bit of a row with Gwaine."

"I know." Oh boy, did he know.

"He looked all ready for another argument when I got here."

"Did he get one?" Percival shook his head again with a small smile.

"I didn't come to argue with him," he said simply. "Just wanted to make sure he was sure. He's thought it through, Arthur. He's made his decision, and we just need to support him in it."

"You're content to just let him condemn himself?" Arthur demanded incredulously. "He's walking to his death with this!" Percival tilted his head to the side, eyeing him shrewdly.

"I think you underestimate him," he said. "I think everyone does. Give him a chance. He might surprise you." Percival put a hand on Arthur's shoulder, nodded to him again, and walked away toward the armoury. Arthur stared after him for a moment, marveling at his quietest knight. Shaking his head to rid himself of the worry and fear that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought of allowing Merlin to walk out into that arena, he turned back to the door and squared his shoulders. He pushed it open and strode into the room. Merlin looked up and groaned at the sight of him. Had this been any other day, he would've boxed Merlin's ears for it, but he had more important things on his mind now.

"Withdraw, Merlin," he said authoritatively.

"No, Arthur," he responded in a similarly definitive tone.

"You're not a fighter, Merlin, you can barely hold a sword the right way up," Arthur said with an attempt at their usual teasing air, but his own angry fretfulness meant that it came out much more disparagingly than he had intended. Merlin bristled slightly, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"You do realize I have spent the last eight years watching you train knights and fighting bandits by your side and being your training dummy, don't you?" he asked contemptuously. "You don't think I've picked up a few things from all that? I've survived everything that's been thrown at us thus far, I have to be doing something right."

"Fighting bandits in the woods is one thing, Merlin, but mortal combat is a different thing entirely," Arthur insisted. He resisted the urge to point out that Merlin was usually hiding behind a tree during confrontations with bandits, knowing that would only make Merlin even more defensive. He fell back on the technicalities. "Single combat with a knight is like nothing else you've ever experienced. You're in over your head, Merlin, you have to realize that, surely."

"Arthur, you still view me as the gutsy peasant who led you on a chase through the market with a mace he didn't know how to use," Merlin said. "You have to realize that I've come a long way since then." A small smile tugged at his lips but Arthur didn't feel like smiling at all. On the contrary, the memory of that confrontation made him want to cry at that moment. He looked at Merlin and was surprised to realize just how much he had changed since that ridiculous fight. He was no longer the scrawny, plucky youth with more audacity than common sense. He had grown up a great deal, his shoulders had broadened and filled out, his arms had a definition that Arthur had not noticed, his clothes were not baggy on his thin frame anymore. But it wasn't just the physical changes that struck Arthur in that moment, it the difference in his bearing, in the way he held himself. Merlin no longer radiated that aura of youthful naïveté he had been so well known for in his younger days. Somewhere along the line he had lost that innocence, but he had not been left downtrodden like so many disillusioned young men. In its place was a sort of quiet self-assurance, a fortitude and confidence that asserted itself in his very stance. Merlin faced his friend, his master, his king, with his back straight and his head held high. He held his ground with a glint of steel in his eye and Arthur knew he had one last recourse. He drew in a deep breath.

"As your King, Merlin, I _order_ you to withdraw from this ridiculous duel," he commanded with as much authority as he could possibly muster. Anyone else would have quailed beneath Arthur's imperial demand, but Merlin simply let out a huff of derisive laughter and raised an eyebrow.

"And since when have your orders ever stopped me before?" Arthur's shoulders slumped, all bravado leaving him in defeat, and he suddenly felt very tired. He rubbed a hand over his face, having to squeeze his eyes shut to fight back tears in the face of his foolishly brave servant. And best friend.

"Merlin, _please_. If you won't withdraw for your own sake, then do it for mine," Arthur pleaded, fighting to speak around the lump in his throat but making sure that Merlin met his gaze when he said this. "You're my best friend, Merlin, and I don't want to lose you. I don't know what I would do if I did." The thought of life without Merlin by his side, of having a bland and submissive servant following him around like a shadow, was enough to close off his throat completely and prevent any more embarrassing supplications. Merlin had always been there, through thick and thin, through the best and the worst times of his life, through everything. Arthur couldn't imagine facing a battle without Merlin riding alongside him. His servant had been a near constant presence in his life for the last eight years. So much had changed in that time, betrayals and upheavals and crises and near-death experiences, but the one thing that had not changed in the least was that Merlin was at his side, knocking him down and propping him up at the same time. And now that could change. And that thought scared Arthur more than any of the other changes in his tumultuous life.

For a moment Arthur thought this last heartfelt plea had done the trick, that Merlin would crack and give in and withdrawal from this thrice-blasted fight. Merlin's steely gaze softened, his expression of hard determination melted a bit, he dropped his defensive stance and just looked at him for a moment. His eyes looked suspiciously bright and Arthur knew that he, too, was fighting back tears.

"You know you've always been my best friend, Arthur," Merlin said softly, reaching out to clasp his shoulder. "But I have to do this." Arthur searched his face, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"_Why_?" he asked, desperate to know the answer for his friend's determination to get himself killed. "What do you have to gain with this? You have nothing to prove, Merlin. Not to the knights, and certainly not to me."

"I have everything to prove. To myself."

And suddenly Arthur wasn't seeing Merlin anymore. He was staring up at a younger Guinevere, the serving girl who would stand her ground against him. She was clutching at his shoulder, begging him not to go out and joust again. And he gazed up at her and said those same words. He could still remember how he had felt in that moment. Young and untested, desperate to prove that he wasn't just a title, desperate to earn the respect of his people and, more importantly, of himself. He remembered pushing Guinevere away and getting back on his horse, despite being grievously wounded, risking life and limb in his determination and his need to prove himself. And he saw that same need reflected back to him now. He took a step back. His heart clenching painfully somewhere around his navel, Arthur nodded. Merlin's lips twitched as if he wanted to smile.

"Alright, Merlin," he said with a weary sigh. "Just…be careful."

"I will," Merlin assured him. Arthur nodded to him again and turned to leave, but he stopped in the doorway. He turned back to look at his friend. Merlin looked so thin and fragile in that moment, but also somehow strong and resolute. It was incongruous, but also so very _Merlin_. That man was one giant mass of contradictions and surprises.

"Good luck, Merlin." Merlin really did smile this time. It was just a small one, but it fit on his face so much better than the grim determination that had taken up residence there.

"Thank you, sire." It was one of the few times that Merlin had said his title without any hint of sarcasm or derision. Despite his fear and his apprehension and his exhaustion, Arthur was fighting a small smile of his own as he closed the door behind him.

He found Gwen sitting in front of the window in their room, one of his tunics in hand. She was trying her hardest to focus on mending the tear in the sleeve, but her hands were shaking. He stayed in the doorway for a moment, just watching her. He loved her more than anything, but he couldn't help but remember that he only had her because of Merlin. His poking and prodding, his encouragement and advise, his years of being the middle-man and running messages and tokens of affection back and forth between them. He was the one who eventually convinced Arthur to give her a second chance. Like a lot of things in his life, Arthur's relationship with his queen was owed almost entirely to Merlin. And he knew that Gwen had been Merlin's first friend in Camelot, and they remained very close to each other. If Merlin was killed in this battle, Guinevere would be just as devastated as he would. He watched sadly as Gwen finally gave up on her mending and put a trembling hand over her mouth, trying not to succumb to her tears again. He crossed the room and pulled her up into his arms again. She clung to him, her tears falling silently.

"Why is he doing this?" she cried. "I just don't understand it."

"I do," Arthur said. She pulled back to look at him questioningly, practically pleading with her eyes; she needed to know, she couldn't stand the senselessness of it. "Do you remember that jousting tournament where I competed in disguise?" he asked. She frowned in confusion, not seeing the connection, but she nodded anyway. "Do you remember what you said to me? When I was injured? And what I said in return?"

Of course she remembered. How could she possibly forget? That was when their relationship started, with Arthur as a guest in her home. He had kissed her so gently, so sweetly, and then the next minute he was risking his life for the sake of a jousting tournament. She hadn't really understood it then, but she had realized that it was important to Arthur. He wasn't trying to impress her, he wasn't doing it for the glory and triumph. It was for himself. She nodded again.

"Merlin said those same words to me just a moment again," Arthur said. "I told him he didn't need to prove anything to me. But it's not me he needs to prove himself to. He needs to know that he's worth something."

"Why would he ever question his worth of all things?" she wondered.

"Well, look at who he spends his time with," Arthur pointed out. "The king and queen, the most trusted knights and the fiercest warriors in the Five Kingdoms, and the most renowned physician in the land. The knights all tease him and play jokes on him, and I admit that I spend most of my time berating him, and even though he knows it's all said in jest and I don't really think he's useless and stupid and all of that, but it has to grate on him after a while. He's surrounded by the best of the best, and I think he just wants to feel like he's worthy of being included in the group."

"Surely he knows how much we all care about him," she insisted. "We've never thought him inadequate or less than any of us. He's always been our equal in every way, he doesn't need to convince us of his value."

"It's not us he needs to convince," he reminded her gently. Tears welled in her ears again and he enfolded her in his arms once more, kissing the top of her head and rubbing his hands over her back soothingly. "I may not like what he's doing," he whispered, "but I understand why. And I can't fault him for him. I've been there, I know how it feels. I think he really does need to do this. I only hope the idiot makes it through."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Popular demand was**_** overwhelming**_** for me to continue this story. Almost every single review expressed disappointment that I didn't carry through to Arthur's reactions to the fight, so I finally caved and wrote out Arthur's POV for the rest of the story. I realize now that Arthur has a lot of thoughts, so…..this companion piece is now four thousand words longer than the piece for which it is a companion. Oh well. Enjoy!**

The next morning, Gwen managed to dig out an old shirt of mail she had made herself several years ago, back when she was nothing more than a blacksmith's daughter. She fussed over it for most of the morning, checking it repeatedly and making absolutely sure it was spotless and every link was strong. Arthur pulled one of his own padded tunics, an older one he had never bothered to get rid of when it became too small for him, and dusted it off. He sent for a quality sword from the armoury and went down to the inventory to look through the spare armour parts for things that would fit Merlin, discarding anything bulky that would weigh him down too much and throw off his rather delicate balance. When he had as much as he thought Merlin would be comfortable wearing, he returned to his chambers to find Gwen polishing the sword he had sent for, gnawing on her lower lip with her brow furrowed in slightly manic concentration.

"I ordered for a nice breakfast to be sent down for him," she said, trying to keep her voice light, and if her polishing was more forceful than it really needed to be, he didn't comment on it. Instead he placed the armour on the table and took the sword gently from her hands. He pulled her up and looked her in the eye for a moment, then kissed her softly, wrapping his arms around her waist and just holding her tightly. They stayed that way for a while, drawing comfort from each other, until Arthur caught sight of the hot late morning sunshine streaming through the window.

"Come on," he said reluctantly. "It's getting late." He released his wife and gathered the armour up in his arms again, and the sword. Gwen nodded and draped the chainmail and tunic over her arm.

The walk to Merlin's chambers seemed both too short and infinitely longer than it usually was. Gwen was practically radiating restless energy, desperate to do something, but Arthur felt a little numb. Now that he had reconciled himself with his own impotence in the situation, acknowledged that he couldn't, and shouldn't, stop Merlin from fighting, there was little left but resignation. It still felt a little like walking to the gallows, though.

Merlin was just finishing his breakfast when they reached his and Gaius' chambers. Gwen rushed forward and immediately set about getting Merlin into the tunic and mail, bustling around him a bit frenetically. If Merlin noticed her anxiety, he didn't see fit to mention it. Instead, he stood still until Arthur came forward to fix his armour into place, at which point he shifted a little awkwardly. Had the situation been different, Arthur might have laughed at his discomfiture, but he couldn't bring himself to now. It brought back memories of Ealdor, when Merlin had been young and scared and too distracted to buckle his own greaves properly. Seven years ago, Arthur realized with a small jolt in his stomach.

"I didn't get you full armour," he said gruffly to distract himself, "because I know you're not used to fighting in it and it would probably be more of a hindrance than a help."

"Not to mention it's all too big on me and I'd look bloody ridiculous," Merlin muttered. Arthur got very close to smiling then; trust Merlin to be flippant at a time like this.

"And you're not a knight so you don't get a cape," he added with a little frown that Merlin couldn't see since Arthur was behind him, tightening the straps on his pauldron. "But I got you a decent sword, made by the royal smith instead of the one from the lower town. Gwen made the chainmail herself." Merlin turned to smile at Gwen, who was hanging back and watching the two of them with tears in her eyes.

"Thanks, Gwen," Merlin said. She made a truly valiant effort to return his smile, but the tears welled up in spite of it and she hugged Merlin fiercely instead. Arthur saw Merlin's face fall, but he held her tightly and tried to soothe her as best he could. She kissed him on the cheek and fled, leaving Merlin staring despondently after her.

"Nervous?" Arthur asked. He was certainly beginning to feel some nerves himself; seeing Merlin like this, outfitted for combat and without his omnipresent cheery grin was an unsettling reminder of what was about to come, of the danger he would soon be in. But Merlin just picked up his sword from the table and juggled it slightly in hand to get the feel of it.

"Only a little," he said, nodding to himself. He threaded the sword through his belt and turned to face him. He looked ready, calm and determined, and Arthur felt an upwelling of respect and admiration for his friend. He gripped Merlin's shoulder, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

"You're a brave and honorable man, Merlin," he said earnestly. "You may not be a knight in title, but you're a knight in spirit. I hope you know that." And he meant every word. He knew that he often treated Merlin badly, but right now, before he went out to fight for his life, he needed Merlin to know just how much he respected him. Merlin seemed to understand, his face softening.

"Thank you, Arthur," he said simply, his voice soft and his eyes a bit brighter than usual. Then he straightened his back a bit, lifted his chin, a look of defiant determination sliding into place that looked a bit more at home on his face than had the grave resignation that had been there a moment before. Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze, nodded to him once more, and led the way out of the chamber.

They walked in silence; no more words needed to be said between them, not when they knew each other so well. Merlin fell in beside Arthur, half a step behind. Arthur wondered when he had started doing that instead of keeping pace with him; in the beginning, Merlin had always made a point to walk directly alongside Arthur whenever he could get away with it, just to show that he wouldn't allow Arthur's title to dictate his every move. But now Arthur realized that this had been their norm for a long time now, with Merlin walking just a bit behind. It was close enough that it would have been considered insolent for any other servant, but from Merlin, it was more than he would do for anyone else.

Arthur left Merlin at the entrance to the arena without a word, not trusting himself to speak, instead squeezing his shoulder one last time and heading around to the Royal box. Guinevere was already seated there, her posture stiff but her face dry. She wore her crown, and she had Arthur's in her lap; she had obviously gone back to their chambers after leaving Merlin, to calm down and to fetch their crowns. Neither of them was dressed as formally as was to be expected for viewing single combat, but Gwen had said she couldn't bear to dress like a queen for this, not when she and Merlin had been servants together for so many years. Arthur, too, couldn't stand to dress splendidly just to watch his best friend fight for his life; it seemed tactless. But he donned his crown anyway and took his seat alongside his queen, waiting for Merlin to emerge.

He took the time to study Sir Carson, thoughts whirring. The man was stood casually, looking utterly bored by the proceedings. He didn't seem eager to fight Merlin, he didn't even look the slightest bit interested. Arthur couldn't make heads or tails of it. If Carson had nothing invested in this fight, then why challenge Merlin in the first place? What was the point? Even more strange, how had the Northumbrian knight known Merlin in the first place? It was obvious that Merlin hadn't been acquainted with Sir Carson, his confusion had been plain when the challenge was issued, but Carson had recognized Merlin, called him by name, and had even known Merlin's hometown. Ealdor wasn't exactly a well-known village, tiny as it was, so how had Carson known Merlin hailed from it?

Arthur was snapped from his considerations by Merlin's entrance. He strode out across the arena to stand opposite Sir Carson as the crowded stands erupted with cheers. Arthur wasn't sure how to feel about the turnout for the duel, torn between being touched that so many people cared enough about Merlin to show their support and being disgusted that so many wanted to witness his possible death. Merlin didn't react to the crowd, though. He was studying his opponent, looking him up and down. Arthur hoped Merlin saw all the same things he did: the bulkier armour, which would slow him down, the stocky build, which implied a tendency to rely strength alone, the lopsided stance, which left him off balance, the arrogant carelessness, which would leave openings for him to exploit. He could only hope that Merlin really had been paying attention all those years of watching the knights train.

Arthur got to his feet and raised his hand, waiting for the rowdy crowd to quiet. When it did, the silence was heavy with anticipation, but Arthur just felt vaguely sick. He hated to have to do this, to be the one to preside over his own friend's duel to the death. If Merlin died in this battle, Arthur would live knowing it was he who had given the signal. Fighting down the slight nausea, he cleared his throat and said, "The duel will be according to the Knights' code." He could give Merlin that much honor, at least, knight or no. "To the death." He raised his hand high, hoping no one would notice the slight tremor, and, after a second's hesitation, brought it down again.

He sat down, his heart in his throat in a way it very rarely was. The only other times he could remember feeling like this were when Morgana had fallen down the stairs and cracked her skull, when they thought she was going to die, and when Guinevere had been accused of enchanting him and was slated to burn as a witch. He couldn't deny that he was impressed with Merlin's fortitude. He took the shield he was offered and crossed swords with his opponent, then slid into a ready stance. It had taken Arthur weeks to beat that form into Merlin's head when he had first been assigned to him, weeks of one-on-one training sessions. Arthur realized they hadn't had a session like that in years, and he could only hope his oversight wasn't going to get Merlin killed.

Merlin swung the sword around in a circle with a flick of his wrist and Arthur let out a little huff. Gwaine's bark of laughter and Guinevere's pained sort of noise assured him that they, too, had recognized it for what it was—a subtle mockery of him. Merlin shifted his stance, then settled, waiting patiently for Carson to strike. The first ring of steel on steel made Gwen jump and clutch at Arthur hand, but Merlin had deflected the blow successfully. Arthur had to fight the urge to look away, to avert his eyes so as not to have to witness this battle, but he refused to be so cowardly. Instead he held his breath, waiting for a cry of pain, or the sound of sword cleaving flesh, but it didn't come.

Arthur was astonished to see that Merlin was quite holding his own. He blocked or redirected each of Sir Carson's blows, displaying an agility and fleetness of foot that quite belied his usual klutziness. Gwen let out a little gasp when the tip of Carson's sword caught him across the arm, but it was superficial and didn't slow him down at all. Merlin wasn't stopping each attack, not having the strength necessary to maintain such a strategy, but was knocking Carson's sword to one side or the other, side-stepping and allowing Carson's own force to carry him forward and throw him off balance. It was a good tactic, one which Arthur was proud of him for adopting. It was certainly throwing off his opponent, who fell back to reevaluate his own strategy.

Merlin didn't give him time regroup. He took advantage of Carson's indecision and sprang forward to deliver a barrage of attacks, raining them down on his shield with more strength than Arthur had thought he possessed. Carson stumbled, taken aback by the sudden aggression of someone he had surely expected to be frightened and inexperienced. He regained his footing quickly but was forced to remain on the defensive, working hard to keep Merlin's blows from connecting. He took a hard hit across his right forearm, which drew cries of surprise and intrigue from the astounded spectators, and nearly dropped his sword in pain. A few more blows and Merlin had managed to knock Sir Carson's shield form his grip, sending it flying across the arena.

Then Merlin did something that made Arthur's mouth fall open in what was probably unflattering disbelief. He clashed his sword against his opponent's and twisted it from his hand, leaving Sir Carson unarmed and unprotected, then brought his elbow up under the man's chin and knocking him to the ground. The crowd screamed and Gwen jumped to her feet, hands clamped over his mouth, while Arthur gaped in astonishment. That was Gwaine's signature maneuver, one he had never been willing to teach the other knights. Percival and Elyan had both tried to emulate the tricky move, but neither could quite get the hang of it. Leon had never tried to learn it, since it didn't fit with his more polished and technical style. Even Arthur hadn't tried to appropriate the technique. When the hell had _Merlin_ picked it up?

Merlin had moved back and pulled off his helm and was looking around the arena, taking the opportunity to breathe freely for a moment. Arthur realized his mouth was still hanging open, but he was too stunned to think about closing it. He thought he saw a smirk on Merlin's face, though, when his friend caught sight of him. That snapped him out of his shock and he sat back a little, clenching and unclenching his hands restlessly as Sir Carson clambered to his feet, spitting out blood and looking furious. As honorable as it had been for Merlin to give his opponent a chance to regain his footing, the look on Carson's face made Arthur wonder if that choice would be the death of him.

Carson launched himself at Merlin, holding his sword with both hands and putting all his strength behind every blow. Arthur held his breath, his heart beating frantically as Merlin was forced backwards by the constant bombardment of his shield. Merlin dug in his heels and stood his ground as best he could, having no choice but to wait for an opening. Gwen was leaning over the edge of the box, looking absolutely terrified. Arthur was on the edge of his seat, his knuckles white from gripping the arms of his chair, but he launched himself to his feet when Merlin was finally forced down to one knee. Gwen latched onto Arthur's arm as Carson raised his sword to deliver the killing blow.

Arthur almost couldn't believe it when he saw the tip of Merlin's sword force its way through Sir Carson's back. The roar of the crowd was deafening as they cheered what Arthur had yet to process. Even as the knight slumped to the ground, leavening Merlin still standing tall, Arthur couldn't quite understand. He just stood, frozen and staring, at Merlin's slightly trembling form. It wasn't until Guinevere appeared on the field and threw her arms around Merlin's neck in a very un-queenly display of relief, nearly knocking him over, that Arthur finally comprehended that fact that Merlin had won. His best friend was still alive.

That thought wrenched a laugh from him, a slightly hysterical and completely giddy laugh. He felt light-headed with relief as he all but ran from the royal box to the arena's entrance to meet them. Gaius was already there, looking a bit faint but beaming with pride and relief as well. When Merlin came into view, supported by Gwen, Arthur just looked at him for a moment, drinking in the sight of a tired but smiling, triumphant, _alive _Merlin. Unable to form coherent words, he held out his arm and Merlin took it. Arthur had another flashback to Ealdor and the contrast between that Merlin and the one before him now broke his composure. He hugged Merlin tightly, which made the other man laugh as he returned the embrace. Even when he drew back, Arthur couldn't stop smiling.

Gwen continued to hold onto Merlin's arm on the way back to his chambers since he looked tired enough to fall down. Arthur was hovering, he knew he was, and he knew Merlin probably didn't appreciate it, but he couldn't help it. _Merlin won_. The thought kept repeating itself in Arthur's mind, bouncing around and keeping the grin fixed firmly on his face all the way to the physician's chambers, where Gaius ordered Merlin out of all his armour for a proper examination. As the rush of adrenaline faded completely, Merlin was getting his legs back under him, so he stood on his own for Arthur and Gwen to unfasten and remove his armour and padded tunic without swaying.

"Where did _that_ come from?" Arthur demanded as Gaius pushed Merlin onto a bench and began poking and prodding him, mixing up a tincture to assuage bruising.

"Where did what come from?" Merlin asked, his frown of confusion interrupted by a wince as Gaius tied a bandage tightly around the shallow cut on his upper arm.

"All of _that_!" Arthur exclaimed eloquently, waving a hand at Merlin and the armour and the sword, too agitated to make himself more clear. "I've never seen you fight like that, Merlin, not in eight years!"

"Oh," Merlin said with a self-effacing smile. "I guess I work better with an audience." Arthur huffed out a laugh again, unable to do anything else in the face of this revelation. Honestly, he still felt dizzy in the absence of the fear and despair that had plagued since the challenge had been issued. Guinevere saved him from having to formulate any sort of response.

"That was amazing, Merlin," she gushed, squeezing his arm—the uninjured one, since Gaius wouldn't let her get anywhere near the other one—and smiling as much as Arthur. "Really. You fought spectacularly." Arthur was amused to see Merlin turn bright red, flustered by the praise. He did smile at her, though, before looking down again.

"Merlin!" The door was thrown open to reveal a joyous Gwaine, who hurdled across the room toward them, practically radiating energy and excitement. He very wisely stopped short of flinging himself on Merlin, bowing to the pressure of Gaius eyebrow. He settled for all but yelling, "That was brilliant, mate! Where've you been hiding those moves all this time?"

"I haven't been hiding them," Merlin objected. "I've just never really had a good reason to use them." Arthur frowned a bit at that; they had been in plenty of battles, they fought for their lives on a regular basis, and he had never seen Merlin fight the way he obviously could. Had he been holding back? He opened his mouth to ask why, but Gwaine's next comment derailed his train of thought.

"What, putting Princess in his place isn't a good enough reason?"

"Oi!" Arthur spluttered indignantly, glaring at his knight, and then at his wife when she smothered a laugh behind her hand.

"I highly doubt I could best Arthur," Merlin said graciously, rolling his eyes at Gwaine's obvious exaggeration. Arthur smirked in satisfaction; at least _someone_ here was sensible.

"When'd you figure out my trick?" Gwaine asked, crossing his arms and looking a little petulant. "I never taught you that!"

"I've seen you do it enough times, I just sort of figured it out," Merlin said, shrugging as much as he could with Gaius rubbing tincture into his left shoulder.

"Was that the first time you've done it?" Arthur asked, finding it a little hard to believe. He had watched Elyan and Percival practice for hours trying to get the hang of that. If Merlin could really pull that off in the heat of battle without any training, then he really was being underutilized.

"Yeah. I'm actually very surprised I pulled it off. I didn't really expect it to work," he confessed, laughing slightly.

"Well it did. Well done, my friend. Well done indeed," Gwaine said heartily. He moved to clap Merlin on the shoulder, but Gaius raised his formidable eyebrow again, threatening him with a jar of ointment. Gwaine backed off with his hands raised defensively, looking appropriately reprimanded, shooting a disgruntled look at Merlin when he laughed.

"Why isn't he a knight?" Gwaine demanded suddenly, looking at Arthur and jerking his head toward Merlin, who looked up sharply.

"_What_?" he stuttered, looking thoroughly taken aback. "Me, a knight?"

"Why not?" Gwaine asked with a shrug. "He sure fought like a knight out there! Not only was his swordsmanship up to par, he acted more honorably than most knights in the kingdom would have. He didn't press his advantage, he gave his opponent a chance to get back on his feet. If that isn't the sign of a true knight, I don't know what is. And everyone knows Merlin's one of the bravest people around," he continued, completely ignoring Merlin's flustered attempts to interject and speaking directly to Arthur. "He's looked nightmares in the face and laughed at them! He's ridden out against dragons, for god's sake! That's more than most of your knights can say. And there isn't a kinder or more generous soul in the whole of Albion, we both know that, Arthur. I've always though Merlin was the most noble of all of us, and now I find his swordplay can match it. If anyone deserves to be a knight, Merlin does."

They all stared at him for a moment, a little surprised at the vehemence of it. Arthur felt like he should scoff and call him ridiculous, but he couldn't exactly deny that all of what Gwaine said was true. All of Merlin's actions spoke of nobility befitting a knight, even in single combat. His honorable move in the ring had been risky, but he hadn't been willing to kill a man who was flat on his back, even when plenty of people would have. Arthur had to respect him for that. And Merlin had faced true horrors in their time together and hadn't flinched. He had ridden out alongside him to face the Great Dragon, unarmed and certain they were all going to die, when most of the kingdom was cowering in fear. He had stood by his side against the dorocha, even when it was obvious that he was terrified, and offered to give his own life to close the veil so Arthur wouldn't have to. That was true courage.

"Arthur! You can't really be thinking of knighting me," Merlin exclaimed, looking flabbergasted. Arthur shrugged.

"Why not, Merlin?" he asked honestly. "Gwaine makes a good case for you. He has a fair few points. You've never been anything but honorable, and your skill with a sword really has improved a hundredfold. If you don't feel ready to take the test now, I'm sure a few weeks of training could have you up to scratch." Merlin stared at him, glancing around to see that all of them were watching him, waiting for a response. After a moment or two of contemplation, he turned back to Arthur, his expression hard to read.

"I've told you once before, Arthur," he said, his tone as indecipherable as his face. "I'm happy to be your servant, till the day I die. I still stand by that." Arthur was struck again by the sincerity of that statement, as shocking in its devotion now as it had been seven years ago when Merlin had first told him that. That Merlin was perfectly willing to dedicate his entire life to him, to Arthur, was staggering. He wasn't sure he deserved loyalty such as that.

"You'd rather be a servant than a knight of Camelot?" he asked incredulously, his skepticism echoed on the faces of his Queen and knight, though Gaius didn't look at all surprised by Merlin's decision.

"It's what I've always been," Merlin said simply. "I like my life, Arthur, just the way it is. I'm perfectly content to stay where I am. What would really change anyway?" he asked with a wry smile. "I'd still go everywhere with you, I'd still ride out into battle, I'd just have to wear that bulky armour that really looks ridiculous on me and that blood cape that gets in the way of everything."

"You wouldn't have to be at my beck and call anymore," Arthur said, trying to tamp down the slight sadness that rose in him at the thought of Merlin not being around all the time or waking him up in the morning with those annoying sayings, of having another servant, a bland thing who called him 'sire' and didn't talk back. He felt a little silly and very sentimental for thinking it, but he would miss having Merlin constantly at his side. But then he remembered the reason for which Merlin had done this, to prove himself, to feel like he was worthy. He couldn't let his own dependence stop him from offering Merlin a chance at being something more than he was. "You would be a knight of Camelot, and you would be afforded all the respect and status befitting that station. You would really rather stay a servant?"

"I already have the respect of everyone that matters to me," Merlin pointed out. "You did not inherit your father's disdain for the lower classes, and you don't treat a servant's word as less worthy than a knight's, so that's not an issue anymore. Status and class have never mattered to me, Arthur, you know that better than anyone, you great royal prat." Arthur rolled his eyes and tried very hard not to smile at that, but couldn't help it.

"Besides, I rather enjoy the anonymity afforded to me by my post," he continued, his tone sly. "Everyone overlooks the servants. We fade into the background, people forget we're there. It's why servants always have the best court gossip. No one ever thinks we could be more than what we appear to be. We're constantly underestimated, and that gives us the potential to be much more dangerous than any knight of Camelot. Tactically, the best way for me to protect you is to stay where I am." Arthur stared at him, too impressed with his argument to take offence at the implication that he needed protecting. He crossed his arms and leveled his servant with an evaluating look.

"You're just full of surprises today, aren't you, Merlin?" he asked.

"Gaius always says I'm a riddle wrapped up in a mystery," Merlin said matter-of-factly.

"Well, just remember that Princess was perfectly willing to make you a knight, Merlin. And I'm sure the offer will remain standing," Gwaine said with a look at Arthur. "You deserve it, my friend. You really do."

"Thanks, Gwaine," Merlin said with a huge grin.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go celebrate your continued existence with ale." Gwaine gave a sweeping bow and bounded out of the room as they all rolled their eyes and laughed at his incorrigibleness. The quiet he left behind was a bit awkward, the subject of Merlin's potential knighthood hanging between them.

"Well…" Arthur said eventually, pushing himself off the table. "Take tomorrow off, Merlin. You deserve a rest after that. And the offer does stand," he said firmly before extending a hand to Guinevere. She took it and they both headed for the door, leaving Merlin in Gaius' cossetting.

Even as they got ready for bed, Arthur found himself still smiling, the relief of Merlin's victory flooding through him at random intervals. Better than that, even, was the change he could see in Merlin. He had looked so happy when he walked out of the arena. Even though he had been shaking his exertion, leaning heavily on Gwen to stay standing, he had still looked so triumphant, so proud. He had needed to prove he was as capable as the rest of them, and he had. And Arthur hoped he would never doubt himself again, because Arthur certainly wouldn't.


End file.
